Godless

— Are you there, God? It’s me, you. 

You disappeared so soon after I’ve just found you. huh. I am looking at my reflection in the mirror and know you are there, but still, I can’t feel you, so I can’t feel myself either. The fear has consumed me. Since then I struggle to drag out the divine from inside but struggle makes it worse. It hides deeper.  A thick layer of corkwood makes me breathless. 

I have turned blind, once again. Hello, darkness, my old friend. 

—Tea or coffee, sir?

I was zoning out from reality, but still sitting in a plane, flying to Arizona.

— Tea, please.

These days, my heart beats faster but I don’t feel it anymore. I can turn it back into second but it’s the hardest clap of fingers in the history of mankind. The knowledge of the most complicated one-click transformation makes me suffer even more. Would it be easier just to be an unbeliever? Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, fuck, sleep, drink, sleep. 

Yes, I had a thought to bring my old habits back. To forget once and for all that I am the god and light up the cigarette. Then some intellectual with no heart would say that God is dead. And maybe he would be right because thousands of hearts die every day anyway. Thousands of gods forget their true nature. Who the god I am to be different? 

The souls are lost. They choose to sleep for eternity. Then they die and come once more, thousands more to recall, but every ignorance makes it harder for them to free themselves. And that’s how we become slaves of life. Yes, life is slavery itself, if not then what would be the reason to be born? The point is to become free from attachments and I would call life a one big attachment. Do you think you are attached to food? people? drugs? No, you are attached to life, that’s the problem. We cling so desperately to our existence, that we suffer. 

Tell me, tell me that self-murderer does not love life and I will laugh. He is the one who loves it the most so he refuses to face life if not played by his rules. He refuses to play. That’s all. This is the act of rebellion, a manifestation of protest to the world. He is just angry. Follow the suicidal soul after the death and ask, whether he would do it once more or live his unbearable life fully. Just ask. And then, the focus starts. He doesn’t remember yet he should be born again and suddenly someone turns to him:

— Hey, sir, you are going to be born for the 342748329472398th time. Accept it or in case of denial, please push the “cancel” button.

What do you think, does he think at all? Suicider. He pushes yes, absolutely, yes, I want to be born again. He is so happy to have one more 342748329472398th chance. As it seems the suiciders are born much quicker in this life, they won't even wait for after-death treats.

Hm, interesting. Maybe I shall.. Oh, no, really? Am I really thinking about suicide? 

— You see, God? I’ve already become dangerous to myself. And what awaits me then? Just to discuss. More suffering will come. One more round of tortures. I have no nerves to stand bureaucracy. Okay, we are done. Do you see? We are moving forward. It seems like humor and humor has a smell of divine. Just a little bit and I will catch your vibe.

When I arrive, will you be there, God? What if I lost you totally. What if I got stuck here and never ever will get through you. Hell. Oh, god, I can’t breathe.

…

Wait, wait. Even hell is not the final destination but the place of purgatory and ifs doesn’t exist, right?  Ifs are only the imagination. I Do not deserve suffering after all!!! I am boiling. I deserve to be joyful.

 Hey, now we are going through the celebration of spiritual Ego. You see how anxious and short-tempered am I? Breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

sit on the shore. Observe. These thoughts are not yours, these thoughts are not yours. hoo, haa. The thoughts are collective,that's what I know for sure. It’s just like spiritual radio. Shit frequency? Shit music will come. Breath.

Am I in the same shit? Come on, I thought I was transcendent almost. So sarcastic. 

— Hey, sir, take your keys, please. The room is ready. 

oh, yeah, I have arrived. I’m entering the motel. so, where was I? Are you there, God? I will get shit out from you.

Once I thought you were a guy with a beard, I was so mad at you. Now, when you have the face of mine, I don’t even know on whom to be angry. There is no one left.

Should I close my eyes back? … 

Nah, I am already on the space track and have opened them too wide to return to Earth. These navigation buttons.. I have known them well but forgot how to handle the conducting system. 

“This is major tom to Ground control, I am stepping to the dark and I am floating in the most peculiar way, nananana”. 

— Sir, smile.

— oh, yes. 

I am in the Grand canyon. An Asian guy is standing in front of me with my smartphone. I am smiling. 

— Are you here, God? Because I think you love places like this. I mean, the places like this have powerful physic energy. Maybe you will decide out of the blue and reveal yourself to me.

I hear how the wind of the desert blows, not you. 

Do you know what is called a fate more painful than hell? 

The state where your left foot seeks the soul and the right one pumps into the ego game room, where there is no light at all. And guess what, when you know how it feels to be in the light? The darkness seems heavier. I would say the darkness is darker here. At least I should develop some kind of stamina. 

— Hey, sir, your tickets, please. 

Ain’t no canyons have revealed you. I am coming back home. 

You know those people who want enlightenment, right? At first, they are motivated by happiness, they want to be free from suffering, that’s all. But the lust for enlightenment is very gimmick. Once they feel some kind of blessing, the heat strikes and they become obsessed with spirituality. Then the enlightenment itself becomes suffering. Because they desire enlightenment. 

We call ourselves intellectuals. We learnt so accurately to set goals, to be motivated all the time and don’t stop until the missions won’t be accomplished. But what happens then? the next one appears. And that’s how it works, endlessly. We intellectual creatures haven’t realized yet that even godly wishes are mothers of suffering. 

Please, free me from my desires. They refuse to go and they torture me. Even love becomes muddy in them. I remember how peaceful it is to have nothing. Please, come back. 

Sorry, we need to interrupt once more. I hear someone is talking to me. I think she needs a response. 

— Ha? Tell me! - she screams. What should I think?

Oh, my god, should I answer?

— Are you deaf?

— Aaam. Why do you say such things? 

She guessed I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t make up the optimal text to save my ass from screaming.

 Total loser. Slap in the face. 

She got out of the car. The cheek was still heating but it was funny, you know? I laughed at myself. And the only place you can laugh is in the now. I was in the moment. 

Moment.

Oh, my god. 

Moments. 

That’s what I miss, I am not living. What’s the point in finding you inside if life passes through? 

And even if I find you, will you be real? The real god lies in life itself and every manifestation of it. I mean if I am eating a bagel with cream cheese you are there. I love it, I am grateful to have it for my breakfast. If I laugh, laughing becomes the god, if I am alone, you guess then what. What is needed - is Absolute black out in mind, but absolute lightness in the present. 

I stop. I'll stop here. Hey, driver, can you drop me off here? Out of the mind. 

I turned on the TV. The Arizona dream was streaming. Do you remember why Axel loves fish? He thinks they know so much of everything that they don't even need to think. 

Thinking is godless, Now is divine. 

Motivation is positive pressure.

Planning is a dead act. 

Thinking is the black hole. 

Now is responding. 

responding is improvisation. 

Life is improvisation. 

Improvisation is Now.

And only the Now is eternal. 

Let the intellectuals plan, let the intellectuals be motivated, Let the intellectuals think, let the intellectuals be enlightened, let the intellectuals be Gods with Capital Letter G. I choose to be Godless. Empty like a fish. Fish floats in the now and the now floats into the real god. Into the eternity. Period

Flight 1218

Washington D.C. - Phoenix, Arizona

February, 2022